When I was about 8 or so, my gramma’s psycho, 3 horned milk cow, named Blue Eyes, got out of the pasture and ran my poor little Poodle, Fifi through the potato patch, with me running and crying behind them and gramma bringing up the rear, screaming.
Just as Blue Eyes lowered her head to put one of her evil horns through Fifi, the dog doubled back and shot through the fence.
I hated that demon cow.
This ranch has been in the family since 1888, since the first cattle operation started there has been 7 deaths due to cattle. The first was my great grandfather.